The Wild Moon by Riley Storm

Chapter Twenty-One

The business card spun between my fingers, twirling round and round as I stared at it as if eventually something would be revealed about the card’s owner.

Of course, it wasn’t a magical business card, so it just kept spinning, over and over. I was stalling. Which was ironic, considering I’d slept the night without making any rash decisions, letting myself wait until morning before I took one course of action or the other.

Shocking, I know, but who said an old dog couldn’t learn new tricks?

“Either you call it, or you don’t,” I told myself.

The card spun on.

Light streamed through the single window in my room, a welcome contrast to when I’d come home the night before and sat staring at the journal with nothing but the single overhead light to read by. It was sunny today. Clear skies, and it looked like it was going to be rather nice out.

Finally, I snapped the card down on the table and took out my pay-as-you-go cellphone. It wasn’t a smartphone. I didn’t spend money on that. It was simply for making or receiving phone calls. Cheap and easy, and if I didn’t use it much, hopefully untraceable.

Maybe I’m giving Lars too much credit. He’s never been a huge technology buff. Likes to do things the old-fashioned way, or so he says. Besides, he has Johnathan to track me, anytime, anywhere.

I shivered, hating that reminder.

Okay, fine. Time to put up or shut up, Dani. You want to find your parents? Stop being a wimp and dial the damn number.

I flicked open my phone—yes, it’s a flip phone, so what?—and punched in the number, stabbing a finger at the send button before I could rethink my decision. It was just a phone number. Nothing bad was going to happen from calling it.

“Hello there,” a sultry Australian voice greeted me. “The customer you have dialed is unavailable. Please leave a voicemail after the tone.”

Whoever it was hadn’t programmed their voicemail. That was irritating because it gave me no clue as to who Aaron Greiss might be.

The tone beeped, and my message was live. I momentarily panicked, unable to say anything. Whoever listened to the message would hear nothing but heavy breathing at first, and boy, wouldn’t that be open to misinterpretation.

“I knew Thomas,” I said at last, unsure of why I opted to leave out that I was his daughter. “We need to meet. Walkers Bar. Four o’clock. Today. I’ll have the red hat on.”

Hanging up, I spent several long moments working to collect myself. There. I’d done it. I’d set the meeting with whoever was on the other end. This Aaron Greiss, an unknown contact of my father’s. There had to be a reason the business card was there. My father must have intended for me to call him.

Maybe he had information on my dad. I pushed that thought down. Hope wasn’t what I needed right now. Practicality, and information, those had to be my pillars.

I snatched up my phone and headed for the door. I had somewhere to be.

The trip across downtown took me about half an hour. It would have gone faster if I’d taken the bus, but I wasn’t about to spend money I didn’t have just to avoid walking. Not to mention, public transit in Kellar was always crowded, and there was always one person who decided to do something disgusting on the bus that went against all etiquette on how to be a human being.

Last time, it had been a lady shoving her face with sunflower seeds and leaving the drool-covered pile of shells on the seat next to her. Yuck.

As I walked, the buildings got cleaner and taller, and the architecture went from brick and concrete to glass. I was heading from the slums to uptown, where the money lived in the city. I didn’t like it. Everything was too modern. Too angular and lacking in character and diversity.

Give me my old farmhouse over a fortieth-floor condo any day. I’d take its creaks and charms and haphazard layout in a heartbeat before living in a place like this. To some people, though, this was their home or office. Or both. And if I wanted to get an update, it was where I had to go.

I paused outside an average tower. Some thirty floors, maybe more. Lots of glass. Gray exterior. No sign out front proclaiming any singular company’s dominance. The first time I’d visited, I’d sworn I was in the wrong place. Now I knew better, and I proceeded through the lobby with confidence, no longer shocked by the size of the arched ceilings like I had been seven months ago after being given the name by someone.

The elevators closed around another occupant and me, and I tried not to tap my foot in impatience as we paused at the fourth floor to let her out. It’s not like I was in any sort of hurry. I wasn’t late. Nor was I early. It’s impossible to be either of those when you didn’t have an appointment.

The elevator chimed as we hit the sixth floor, and I exited, my shoes echoing on the cold marble tile that had been installed in the exterior corridor. I passed by several office doors, each with a sharp placard labeling the business in gold lettering. Most were lawyers, though one was a publishing house that thought a little too highly of itself, in my opinion.

Then, I reached the one I wanted. The sign simply read, Finders. Nothing else. I’d thought it a bit presumptuous, but the more I’d learned about the reputation of the man inside, the more I figured it was an apt description.

I didn’t bother knocking, instead letting myself in. As usual, a woman with thick, beautiful curves sat behind the desk, her skin dark enough that it practically blended in with the expensive mahogany of the desk. She looked up, smiling to reveal perfectly white teeth.

“Miss Wetter,” she said.

It probably wasn’t a good sign that the smile faded as she said my name. Oh, well.

“We weren’t expecting you.”

“I know, Elaine,” I said, feigning a yawn. “That’s because if you do, he always makes it a point to be out of the office. Hence, I show up like this, and he has no choice but to meet with me.”

Elaine was, as far as I could tell, the only other employee who worked at the firm. She was there whenever I showed up. I had begun to harbor suspicions that one of the offices had been converted into a bedroom for her so that she was never far from work.

“Well, he’s—”

“I know,” I said, waving her off as I headed for the door behind her. “He’s not taking visitors. The usual. Don’t worry. I’ll tell him you tried to stop me.”

Elaine sighed, and I saw her reach surreptitiously for a buzzer on her desk that would alert him I was coming.

I grinned, tossing Elaine a wink. We played this out on a weekly schedule now, and she no longer bothered to try and stop me.

The door had one of those nearly opaque glass windows set into the upper half, the kind that muddies the view of what’s behind it, but if something dark moved against a bright background, you still saw it. As I approached, I saw a generic blob that had to be the man himself get up and rush for the door.

“Hello, Max!” I boomed, strolling into his office, intercepting him just shy of the lock and deadbolt. “So nice of you to come and hold the door for me.”

Maxwell Simmons, best private investigator in all Kellar, so it was said, stared back at me with resigned anger in his dark brown gaze.

“Miss Wetter,” he said through gritted teeth, going along with my little charade. “So good to see you. Please, come in.”

He grabbed the door and held it open for me to walk in, though I knew full well he’d rather slam it shut in my face. Sometimes you have to play nice when the visitor is paying, Max. That’s just how life goes.

I almost went around the desk and plopped into Max’s seat, just to see his reaction, but I stopped short of that. Don’t let anyone say I’m not reasonable.

“Why do you always refuse my calls, Max?” I said, speaking before he had a chance to return to his chair. “It’s like you don’t want to talk to me.”

“In my business, Miss Wetter, it’s easier for me to call when I have an update or a question,” he said with feigned patience. “Otherwise, I’d spend as much time calling clients to tell them I have no updates as I would actually trying to find the people they want me to.”

“So, what update do you have for me, Max?” I asked, all but ignoring his spiel. I knew why he did it. I didn’t care. My money, I wanted updates.

“Nothing, Miss Wetter,” he said with a sigh. “Just like I’ve had nothing for you all these months. I keep telling you they are gone. There isn’t a single shred of anything to indicate that your parents have gone anywhere or done anything. Not one iota, which grates me to say because I pride myself in finding anyone.”

“I know, Max. You come highly recommended, don’t worry. I’m not going to let this stop me from sending someone who might need help to you.”

Max nodded thankfully as he sat back in his chair. He was middle-aged, probably late forties, if I had to make a guess. He shaved his head, though he wasn’t quite bald. I think he thought it added to his image when he needed to play tough guy. While he was in the office, he wore a standard black business suit with a white shirt and, oddly enough, a red tie. It was unusual, but Max wore it well.

“Thanks,” he grunted. “But that doesn’t help me with the fact I haven’t found anything on your parents.”

“You’re still trying, though, right?”

He shrugged. “You keep paying.”

That was his way of saying yes. Max was a reputable sort. Mostly.

“Okay,” I said, taking out part of my winnings from the night before—for once, I wasn’t giving over everything I had. The extra fight with Johnathan had earned me a bit of a respite since Carl had done exactly as I’d asked and bet everything on myself. “Well, here’s this week’s installment. You’re going to keep looking, right?”

“You keep paying,” he repeated. “Though, I can’t promise anything will change.”

So, in other words, he’d keep doing his job, but he didn’t think it likely he’d find anything. But if I were desperate enough, he’d take my money. Like I said. Reputable. Mostly.

“Put more resources on it, then,” I said, making a snap decision and putting half my remaining money on the desk as well.

Max sighed. For a second, I thought he would refuse it. But in the end, he nodded and scooped up the cash. He tucked it away in a drawer and then looked back at me across the desk, arching his eyebrows ever so slightly.

I got the hint.

“Call me with an update next time, Max,” I said as I stood. “I hate coming down to this end of town.”

“Will do, Miss Wetter,” he said.

We both knew he wouldn’t and that I’d be back next week. With more money.

Max was the best in the business. I wasn’t sure what else I could do to track down my parents. If he couldn’t find them, then how could I? I didn’t know the first thing about finding someone who didn’t want to be found. No, I had to rely on Max.

Well, him and perhaps the man I was going to meet with later today. Maybe he could give me some clues.

Assuming he showed.